Warning: Longest blog in the history of forever. Not particularly for assignment purposes. This is for those of you that wanted to hear about my vacation to Ireland with a LOT of pictures!

Pack and plan and part!

As if I hadn’t worn them enough, I put on my big girl panties under my patience pants and planned a vacation.

The e-mail with our WHOLE plan!

Ok, I didn’t do it all on my own, but this was the closest to “in charge” of a trip this big I’ve ever been. Weeks of an underlying stress trying to make decisions, navigate French computers, coordinate with friends and pay big amounts of money for reservations–all while going to school from 9-5. But now it’s time to go! We had a minor panic having not printed tickets, but our wonderful host dad helped us (changing the printer ink and all!) at 10pm the night before.  I’m super excited and super hoping I don’t forget French while we’re gone!

Carina organizing all of our paper work on the first leg – the train to Paris

Carina and I got up and organized, grabbed breakfast and met up with Erin. We discussed how none of us had really traveled on our own with just friends before. This thought combined with day one of our adventure led to the inability to sit still or suppress squeals of excitement at random moments.

Erin and I squealing with excitement on the train!

It’s a good feeling though, the previous day was sad. Last day of September classes was just a party. My perfectly French professor brought a typical, homemade French dessert to share and we watched a French comedy.

My prof and classmates!

Shortly after, we had to bid farewell to Brittany who was going back to the States for school.  I was really sad.

Goodbye!

It was weird without her, I hadn’t known Angers without Brittany for more than a few loney hours, and I’d grown to really enjoy her company and looked forward to chatting about our day each evening. I can just hope our new roommate is just as fun because for now “our trio’s down to twoooo!”.

Our trio….

…down to twoooo!

That evening held last minute packing and “Le Soiree International” in which each country performed something that represented their culture and it was a good closure to the month. There will be lots of changes come October and a nice long break in the mean time!

Our trip to Dublin, was success after success. Well kind of. We arrived in Dublin smoothly and as planned, but after that, things got a little messy. I am SO proud of us for navigating 12 or so connections with no major mess ups! As they say in France “Youpiii!”
Summary:
Walk to tram(8am). Tram to train station. Train to Paris. Take the Metro. Take another subway. Walk to bus stop (*buy a crepe from crazy man wanting to practice English).   Bus to airport.

Out the front window of the bus on the way to the airport!

Fly to Dublin.

Squealing in excitement on the plane!

Talk with helpful woman at info desk (who speaks English!) about options and make plan.

Our first encounter with how nice the Irish are!

Bus to train station.

Upstairs of the bus! I felt like I was driving! (Good thing I wasn’t)

Run. Miss train by 2 MINUTES. No more trains. Wait what? Can’t get to Ennis (town with hostel reservation) until tomorrow…………Bother info guy a lot. Find train to nearby town. Wait and get free food. Take train to random connection.

And the snack trolley went by….I wanted to offer to “take the lot!” but I had no gold galleons.

Take another train and arrive in Limerick. Talk to security man about busses. Assured that there will be one soon. Wait at bus stop. Security man says never mind, no more busses tonight. Panic. Told again there is a bus in about 2 hours (at 11:30pm). Go to local old person bar, play cards and have hot drink.Wait in rain at bus stop (and do ballet to stay warm) and get questioned about the reliability of our information. Bus comes – cheer! Dumped off in Shannon. Wait some more. Another bus comes and takes us to Ennis. Very nice driver drops us off at Hostel. Nice hostel desk person still there to check us in at about 1am. SLEEP.

Great Hostel experience number 1

Hehe. “Ireland. Waiting for a bus”

“What you’re leaving behind – your footprints. What you’re taking with you- your memories.” – Frank the tour guide. (And probably someone famous originally).

The next day, as if nothing had happened, we got up and had breakfast and bought some local candy while crossing our fingers that the tour bus pick up time according to the hostel front desk and different from the e-mail, was correct. It was! From here on out, this was my favorite day. I think I spend most of the bus ride hovering 2 inches above the seat because I was so excited, sitting was literally impossible.  I clung to every fun fact the driver told us and tried not to blink as I looked out the window. If it’s not clear yet how happy I was, my cheeks were already sore from smiling.

Proof.

On our way to the first stop, I learned that Ennis is a really great place to do genealogy research. We also stopped at a castle (well I guess it was just a powerful woman’s house) that was built half in 1480 and added on to in 16 something. It has since decayed a bit and the crows flying around seemed fitting for photos.

You can’t really see the crows…

If you look close you can see a cross in the wall that was build in the 11th century!

Moving on, we came to a bizarre rocky landscape where we hopped around and looked at plants growing between rocks and gazed upon a strange old tomb.

This is where we used some of the pent up energy and bounced around.

Just as it began to pour rain, we got back on the bus to go have a hot meal on the bay. I enjoyed some bangers and mash- kids’ portion-and barely finished it.

YUM.

And this was the view!

Next stop was a little farm where I had some soda bread and we could chose which activity to do. We decided to go to the presentation about herding sheep to see the dogs in action!

Action shot.

This was fitting considering there are about 4.5 million people that populate Ireland and there are about 4.8 million sheep. The dogs are incredibly smart. They know their own whistle sound and what to do on each signal. I was thoroughly impressed.

(Swap that actually, sorry, sheep dogs came before the lunch stop.)

Back in the warmth of the bus, we drove past the most beautiful coast line I’ve ever seen. As a treat, our guide pulled over and let us stretch our legs at a part of the cliff that was accessible. It was absolutely incredible. We each had an adrenaline rush as we dangled our feet over the crashing waves so far below.  It was wonderful to be able to go all the way to the edge even though it felt like the wind would blow us right over. Nature is cool.

Amazing. After standing in the wind I dangled my feet over the depths below. And yes, it was a little unsettling.

The finals stop was the actual Cliffs of Moher, the edge of the world.

I still don’t believe I took these pictures.

I’m convinced that the air here was spiked or something because we were giddy. I’m not sure I successfully shut my mouth the entire time I stared out at the steep jagged shore. Because this was a tourist location and a national pride, there were walls up for our safety which made me more thankful we had pulled over and had a raw experience before. At the hobbit hole visitor center we watched a huge video and read about the history and formation.

Hobbits right?

The sun wasn’t at the best height for pictures at the time we were here, so I bought a post card.

This was my permanent face.

I wish I knew how to post the videos I took.

The evening was as perfect as the day. We found a pub with live music and a chatty local that was easily amused. Then we went to another quiet pub with a live traditional band and a friendly musician.

The musicians!

Here the police are called the Garda. Garda Síochána na hÉireann, Irish for “Guardians of the Peace of Ireland”. Isn’t that just perfectly Irish?

This is at a construction site. More proof of how nice the Irish are.

Though we could have stayed in Ennis longer, we had big plans ahead and caught a bus early the next morning to get to Dingle peninsula by afternoon. We didn’t know Ireland could get better.

Difficult to photograph from the bus!

There were more than 40 shades of green covering the rolling hills and a full, double rainbow to greet us. A double rainbow in Ireland!

You can kind of see it in this picture. I’m not sure where my better picture is.

We almost stopped the bus to search for gold. Alas, this was not a possibility because we had an appointment to go horseback riding. We quickly checked into the hostel and asked for directions to the ranch. Not only did we get directions, but a ride! The hostel owner was leaving shortly to go to his mother’s house for dinner and our next stop was between here and there. We had limited time and appreciated this gesture greatly. Instead of rushing out and walking, we got to have a cup of coffee and ride in a car driving on the opposite side of the road!!!

Our room!

Its backwards….I was SO excited to ride in an Irish car!

The actual ride itself seems like a dream. I’m not sure how many times I asked the others to pinch me. The three of us got a private half hour lesson “Irish style” (we learned that what we know of as English saddle is actually originally Irish) and then he took us up the trail, past the house Snow Patrol recorded their first album in, and then to the tip of the peninsula in the raging wind by a tiny ancient stone wall. And then we just sat there, our horses munching happily, listening to fun facts from our guide and observing the dark spots in the ocean that were plankton. We stared at the tides and clouds and blinked a bit to make sure it didn’t all disappear. I think I experienced a slice of heaven.

Getting to know our horses.

On the way up the hill

Almost to the top…so lucky.

The ancient wall at the top!

Our guide and the dark spots.

Snow Patrol’s house!

Thanking our horses at the end.

Having no return ride, we walked off our saddle seat and ate blackberries from the side of the road for the whole 45 minutes back to town.
Cold, tired and hungry, we showered and, again, sought live music in a bar.

The musician.

Plus, we had gotten a discount on our horse ride so we could “buy a pint tonight!”.

So it was kind of free?

I had a conversation with the bartender that made me question whether we really were speaking the same language. I wanted to order off the kids menu and asked permission to do that, because I didn’t know the norm there. He looked at me as if I were crazy and said it was up to me. So I proceeded and asked what kind of “beans” came on the dish I was interested in. His response, “normal beans”. Normal beans? Uh-huh and what kind of beans are normal? “What color are they?” I asked. “The normal color”. “Great, so like white beans? Green beans? Refried beans?”I was trying to be helpful. Him; “Nooo, no they aren’t white or green, just the normal cooked ones that have ketchup on them”. Ketchup?! “Ok, sure, I’ll have that dish.” And then he walked away without taking my money. So we sat down and anticipated my “normal” beans with baited breath. But I won’t keep you in suspense, they were just your average baked beans, common at Christmas dinners, potlucks or BBQs. And no, they didn’t taste ketchup-y in the slightest.
Unfortunately, I do not have a picture of this.

Esplorin’

We had the morning to kill before departing for the next town. We really wanted to Kayak in the sea caves with the dolphin, but aside from being expensive, we didn’t find out about it in time.

Or swimming with it!

Instead, we went exploring. Someone had recommended the light house to us, so that’s where we went! Turned out to be a tromp through the grass, clovers and mud, against the wind, but the view made every second worth it.

Soo much mud!

Clovers!

We happened upon a strange old stone tower and did the most natural thing in response. Climbed it and pretended to be Rapunzel.

And then I brush and brush and brush and brush my hair!

“Wondering when will my life begin!”

The light house was anticlimactic but the view was not.The deep blue waves in the wind and crashing against dark stone created what the Irish refer to as “white horses”. I think we realized at that point, that were feeling really tired simply from feeling so happy all the time.

Light house

View

View with some white horses and travel buddies.

We got to have a lazy afternoon going from Dingle to Cork. We each had our own seat on the bus and spaced out for a while. The hostel in Cork wasn’t far from the train station and it was combined with a bar. After checking in and getting info for the following day we were able to enjoy a rotating program of live musicians.
My alarm clock worked as planned and we took a bus to the famous Blarney Castle.

Since I don’t need any help when it comes to the number of words I use each day (as evidenced by this blog), we decided to attempt to get the gift of French gab and spoke in French all morning. I guess it was convincing considering the woman at the ticket desk asked if we needed the brochure in a different language. Shortly after, another tourist asked if we could take a picture of her “s’il vous plait”.
The castle itself was cool, of course. I like the castles that are sort of in ruins because they seem more realistic to me. Another great thing was that the info signs were in English, not just English but also clever, witty and interesting to read too.

Kissing the Blarney Stone at the top was not what I expected. We had to lie down and hang upside down and over all it was rather strange. But, I’m glad to say I partook.

Now, if the castle was neat, the grounds were incredible! There was a cave to crawl in (where we met another American)

and a poisonous garden (where I learned a ton about powerful plants!).

Looking down the garden toward the castle.

We spent the entire afternoon wandering around through the enchanted forest, through giant ferns, past mystical waterfalls and trespassing on the territory of ancient druids and witches.
After a hot meal and some gift store browsing, we returned to the hostel, made dinner, explored town a bit and went to bed!

Everything about this place was mystical.

Magical fountain

We felt like dinosaurs walking through here!

We all did this…just in case!

Other side of the falls

Ferns!

Free dinner!

Evening walk

Marissa J. Thompson

And I, were about to be reunited. I’ve been missing my WOU roommate almost every other second since I left the States, I’m not sure we’ve ever gone this long without seeing each other. Heading back to the capital of Ireland meant seeing her face.
We arrived ahead of her and had time to explore town a bit, accidentally finding popular tourist attractions. But I was distracted by my excitement and when Marissa finally walked through the door I made a scene of running across the lobby to give her a hug.
Happily, we chatted (about random things since too much time had passed to “catch up”) and munched on an unidentifiable type of cuisine before, of course, finding live music, this time with live Irish dancing and some local Jamison!

Reunited 😀

The room we shared with three nice strangers

The perfect opportunity presented itself for college students at the end of a vacation. A FREE 3 hour walking tour of Dublin led by a local college student! He was a fantastic guide with the perfect mix of factual history and entertaining nuggets or stories. At the end we gave him tips to support his studies and say thank you for the day.  The tour started with a visit to an old important building that President Obama and  Queen Elizabeth had recently been hosted in.

He pointed out that the statue has her back to the public. There was an explanation about the significance of this, but I forgot.

We were lead through Temple Bar and past the memorial of the potato famine, around some churches and through Trinity College. I wish I had taken notes on some of the crazy things we learned about and took pictures of.

The horrifying famine memorial behind out wonderful guide.

Trinity College! (future grad school?)

The 4 of us! A little chilly but so happy!

Another example of the Irish people.

A church with a unique history.

We later returned to Trinity and had to pay an absurd amount of money to get a glance at the famous book of Kells and walk through the Jedi library. (no photos allowed) This visit was cut rather short as we were running out of time and still wanted to visit the Guinness factory before closing. After asking directions from a nice group of people from Denmark and getting told about the oldest pub in Ireland, we arrived just in time. Unfortunately, we were rushed to the top floor to consume our complimentary pint in the sky bar. I didn’t get to learn as much about the beer or get certified to “pull our own” as we had wanted but at least we found out how to “enjoy beer with all 5 senses” and that the water used comes from the mountains we planned to visit the next day.

They left little shamrock designs in the foam on top!

Marissa and I with my pints of Guinness in the Sky Bar! (That’s a joke…because she didn’t drink much of hers so I helped. I think this is the part where my Dad debates whether or not he is proud!)

Exhausted from walking all day long we needed some dinner and chocolate milk to keep us going for the last event on our agenda. The Leprechaun museum had an after hours, adult’s only, scary event. We signed our lives away and entered into a room with humongous furniture.

As described, signing my name.

That is 4 of us in one arm chair that took some scrambling to get into!

Basically there were actors leading us through the museum and telling stories based on old folklore. It wasn’t quite what we expected but interesting anyway.
Needless to say, we slept well that night. It had been a long, long day!

The next day included a full day tour away from Dublin. Having just toured the Guinness factory, I was excited to go to the Wicklow Mountains, the famous beer’s water source. Upon arrival I decided I didn’t want to leave. It was beautiful .

Couldn’t look away from this view!

The tour led us on a little hike through green and more green stopping at some old ruins and ending in an old Monastery.

Green

more green

and more green!

And the graveyard.

The cool, signature round tour.

The Monastery

It was wonderful to have all of the information and history provided as we went, but I didn’t enjoy being in such a big group. It was hard to hear, and we had limited time resulting in a bit of herding.
After spending a moment in the cemetery and admiring the roundness of the lookout tower symbolic of these old towns we bused on over the mountains and through the woods to grandmother’s town of Kilkenny. Well, perhaps, if your grandmother was a witch in the 1700’s. This medieval area had many great stories and evidence of life so long ago. The highlight for me was a restaurant we chose to eat at.  The restaurant was the home of Dame Alice Kyteler who was the earliest person condemned for witchcraft in Ireland. She managed to flee the country but her servant was flogged and burned at the stake in 1324.

Erin and the inside

Outside

The restaurant

And as if it wasn’t interesting enough with the coziest of decorations, only two things made it better. The deliciousness of the food, including a type of sauce I’d never seen before and this:

The end of that day was sad. It meant that my time in Ireland was up and my time with Marissa was over for now. We packed our belongings and printed our “free drink” voucher for the hostel bar (which was a lot more difficult than it should have been). We shared a beer and said goodbyes. I had lost myself in a world of leprechauns and rainbows for a full eight days. I could not have had a more amazing time in the green beauty of Ireland! Erin and Carina, thanks for being great travel buddies and Marissa, thanks for making the effort to meet us in Dublin! I dream of living in the west and marrying a cute young man with an accent and horses. Then we can wear local wool sweaters and tromp through the mud on the cliffs or kayak in the sea caves with the dolphin. In the mean time, I suppose I need to start learning Gaelic.

The candy shop we went to in Dublin. 3 times.

The castle we visited on the last day.

To get to the airport in time for our flight we had to get up at 4am. So I set my alarm clock that had worked all week. Now that I have said that, you know what happened. It didn’t go off. Thank goodness Marissa had decided to get up and come a bit early with us, I woke up to her knocking on our door at about the time we were supposed to be leaving in the taxi. Luckily we had packed the night before and managed to get downstairs less than 10 minutes late! The only downsides are that we lost the student rate on the taxi for being late and didn’t get to do the paper work to get our tax money back. At the airport we traded Marissa for Jocelyn who had also been in Ireland, going back to France and regretfully, sleepily, left Ireland.

Our trio!

Emily

This is the part where my serious film turns more lighthearted and family friendly. I have a great desire to share with you the event that is laundry day. It is significant enough that when I went back to proof read this blog, I realized I had capitalized laundry and laundry mat every time…

First, watch this video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDD-SP2iaa8 Why? It’s awesome. Also it will help you appreciate the reference I’m making with the title.

So in September our host mom did laundry for us. When October came we put it off as long as possible. You would. The recommended laundry mat is in town. About a 5 minute walk from the tram or 10 minutes from school. So minimum of 40 minutes from home which means we have to carry ALL our clothes to school on the tram.

Carina on the tram with all of her dirty laundry.

Plus, to save money, I planned on hang drying my clothes so I couldn’t do it on a break between classes; it had to be after class before I was going home for the day.
So the first day I brought my clothes to wash, I left them in the office during the day. Little did I know that when I was done with class, the office would be locked up for the night. And so would my clothes.

So I went home, hoping I had something to wear the next day. The following day I took my clothes to class with me, I couldn’t afford risking getting them locked in again. While talking with my director, she found a laundry mat in Avrille (my town). Great news! So I carried my laundry home. I got off the tram and began walking down the street with the address in my hand. I couldn’t find it so I walked back up the other side. I eventually asked and got directions. And walked back down the street a bit further. By this time, my roommate had joined me and we realized that the walk was really long. Really really long. So we turned around AGAIN! I still needed groceries for dinner. So, carrying all my dirty clothes we walked to the grocery store where my bag of laundry filled up the whole cart. Eventually, we were headed home arms full and throbbing. It was miserable. And I, yet again, was forced to scrounge an outfit.
The next day, I took my laundry back into town and finally accomplished my goal.
I don’t have a lot of experience with laundry mats in general, and as you can imagine it didn’t go smoothly by any means. But rather than describing that particular experience, I’ll just provide some general details.
1) The instructions are in French. What average student just has the necessary doing laundry vocab stored away?
2) Ok well any other struggles stemmed from number 1. But learning how to use the soap and paying and what order to do things like paying, closing the door, adding soap, etc was harder than it should have been. It’s enough of a hassle to figure out how you want to split up loads. Especially when each one costs 4 Euros and makes you wait 25 minutes.

Maddy, paying for 1 machine, in all coins. It’s a fantastic way to lighten your wallet!

Anyway, enough on that. It got easier. It still is annoying and I won’t deny that I bought more socks to put off doing laundry but it’s not all struggle! There is a mini grocery store kiddy corner (it’s called Diagonal hehe) from the laundry mat or a bakery next door to get food while we wait. It also suffices as homework time. OR meeting interesting characters and if not meeting, amusing them with out loud, English confusion.
For example, we met a student, who is from Kenya, but lives in England now and is studying in France. I got to have quite a long conversation with her about our studies and experiences.
On another occasion, Maddy got to the laundry mat before me. When I walked in, the first thing she said was “Emily, I made a friend!” and I was promptly introduced to a nice French man on his way out.
Finally, and possibly my favorite was someone we didn’t actually meet. He was sitting in the corner, reading his book and minding his own business when Tornado Emily and Hurricane Maddy came in.
We, as usual struggled through the process of starting our laundry, animatedly speaking English and making really dumb mistakes. Several times I caught him watching us instead of reading and I saw his grin following our describing ourselves as “stupide Americaines!”. Perhaps the final straw was Maddy’s less then discrete burp causing our not-friend to put his book down and suppress laughing out loud. He then shook his head and went back to reading. By the end of the afternoon I almost felt an acquaintanceship forming with the mysterious book smirker.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I’ve made a somewhat recent discovery. I’ve been curious about a noise I’ve been hearing since arrival and pondering its meaning for a good long time. I first heard it coming from a respectable young woman during a meal at home. It was basically just a single grunt coming from the back of her throat. What was weird, is that this was happing during the meal. I thought she was slightly strange for making such noises while eating but I hadn’t been here long enough to understand the norms.
I heard the same sound several other times after this and could never figure out the context. Until one day it was finally clear! Their short, fairly quiet grunt is the noise that means “uh-huh” or “mhmm”, which explains why when I respond with mhm the French person with whom I’m conversing, continues to look at me expectantly.
What’s more, I needed to share my revelation with someone and the most convenient opportunity was explaining to my roommate on the tram ride home. I don’t think I need to say much more. Just picture me animatedly telling my story that can only be fully described with a lot of mmnghts (it’s a really short noise that I have no idea how to spell, so I just threw in a bunch of consonants) mhmms and uh-huhs. Then imagine the faces of the people around us watching and listening and likely not completely understanding.

*LATER*
So, I had to ask and find out. I took a poll and asked some French people how to spell the noise described above. After some explaining I got my point across. Here was the response:
According to a girl in her 20s: Hum
According to a 17 year old boy: hm
Most seem to agree with “hm” but you can’t pronounce it the way we would read that. Keep in mind that the way the French spell “yum” is “miam” and they spell “wow” as “ouah”.

My final observation for this post is that all French people have the same handwriting. Ok so I’m exaggerating and generalizing, but it’s really interesting how similar their handwriting is (for example from professor to professor) compared to the variety I see at home. I mentioned before that their cursive letters or some print letters and numbers are different from the American way but it is also interesting how uniform the letters seem to be.

Alright, while I’m at it, I may as well add one more pointless topic. Pasta to go. That’s right, amazing delicious, filling, FRESH pasta in a box. These stands will be the end of my figure and my bank account (as if pastries and baguettes weren’t bad enough). They basically offer all of the same benefits as a fast food restaurant, except it tastes way better than fast food and I’m pretending it’s healthier. They even have buy 10 get one “offert” (free) like coffee stands! There are two of these that we frequent and one more has just been discovered.

This is the pasta stand closer to school and that has better seating and cost 20 cents less!

Unfortunately, they are different companies so I have two running pasta tally cards. However a box of “4 Fromage” costs 5 euro and means I don’t have to make my own food so filling that card probably won’t be too much effort.

This is not exactly what it looks like when I get it, but I’m using google images for Mezzo di Pasta right now because I don’t have my own pictures.

I’m not sure if I have mentioned this before, but it is relevant enough to risk repeating myself. I think that if we were to get a pasta stand such as these in Monmouth, or really just in any college town, well any town at all in America, it would be a hit. A booming success. Maybe such things exist already, in some places but I wouldn’t mind there being a few more. Actually, I should not have just suggested this to the entire internet because I believe one could make quite a profit. I’m no business major, but I can think of many reasons why a pasta stand would last at home. Especially one down the street from a laundry mat.

Just pretend they are eating pasta.

Election Results Announced!

I wish there was some way I could record the feeling of suspense and apprehension that hung in the air, filling our days and conversation once back in Angers, back to regular media access and surrounded by other politically motivated students. If there hadn’t been so much on the line, it would have been almost fun. Sort of how one can get way too absorbed in hoping their favorite contestant will win a reality TV show. There was a bit of excitement in deciphering the French newspaper each day and hunting for the article about the happenings at home.

Front of the news paper (not sure of the date)

Statistics

The biased paper, I might add. It was a difficult process to vote “absentee” but so worth it. It was my first presidential election and a bit to my surprise I was filled with pride when the French asked me who I voted for and had a look of relief and satisfaction when I told them. As I mentioned previously, it was the second question I was directly asked by my host parents on day one only following an inquiry about my relationship status.
Each day closer to the election the tension rose. My fellow Americans and I were warned that if things didn’t go the way desired, to be prepared for a potential backlash from the French. Our host parents asked us each day “Are you nervous?” Meanwhile, I’d done what I could and occupied myself learning more about the French government and comparing it to my own. Facebook was blowing up with dramatic threats of action if things didn’t go the way people preferred and those were followed by grouchy posts about how everyone was posting about politics. And so the paradox continued while I, amused, mostly refrained from participation.
Being 9 hours ahead, the time of the announcement was rather inconvenient. Many stayed up and refreshed their internet browsers every hour, or set an alarm for approximately the right time to see results. I however crossed my fingers and went to bed. When I woke up I was greeted with a post on my Facebook wall from my best friend telling me I could contentedly and proudly return to the United States. I could come home. Not only that but I was able to hold my head high in my current country of residence, hosting what may have been one of the most relieved groups of people on the planet. It was a special feeling breaking the news to my host parents and international friends and watching their reactions was priceless. What’s more, in the paper that day there was the headline “Mariage pour tous” (marriage for all) as François Hollande, the president of France presented the bill that gay couples can get married and adopt children.

“Mariage pour tous”

I am living through and witnessing positive progressive change and that’s a good feeling. I was slightly taken aback by the warmness that filled me that Wednesday and found that nothing could really bring me down. My smile wasn’t plastered on but those muscles did get tired.
To celebrate, my roommates and I enjoyed a bottle of champagne and the cookies provided by our host parents. We cheers-ed and chattered light heartedly as the anxiety of the previous few days melted away with the sweet white bubbles. By the end of the evening we’d sung the National Anthem (while our host dad hid around the corner to listen) and argued over the lyrics to America the Beautiful.

My roommate Maddy and our cups!

Dawn of the next day came with less tangible side effects of the news but our spirits still soared. I bought two newspapers whose covers hosted the face of our president as keepsakes and what would someday be fun historical evidence. That evening, I had the opportunity to speak on a local French radio station and be interviewed about the election. My classmate and I sat in the official studio wondering how in the world we’d not only get our thoughts together on such issues but express them in French. For most of the hour I let Maddie do the talking. As far as the topics covered we are more or less on the same page and her French is very good. I only chimed in to voice that I agreed or when there was a state specific question (because she comes from California). I’d like to take this opportunity to publically say, despite any insecurity, she did a very good job!

Maddie and the DJ

My world view is changing. I don’t think I’ll get used to opening Google Maps and having France be in the center of my screen instead of Oregon but my natural ethnocentric tendencies are subsiding more. I’m seeing better now than I have in any school class how my home country fits in the world. I’m witnessing its influence in other countries at the same time I’m seeing their own cultural pride still shining brighter. I’ve become more patriotic than ever before and at the same time more interested in learning about and experiencing other cultures than ever before. I suppose this is what “they” were saying would happen on a study abroad trip.

My souvenirs! Not sure why it posted sideways. I cant fix it.

I missed almost all of the summer 2012 Olympic Games because I had limited access to a television, which made me a little sad. But then I remind myself that instead of watching other people interact internationally, I was in flesh and blood getting to sit around a table of at least 5 different nationalities discussing culture or discovering how these mysterious people that come from other places and backgrounds are just like me. We shared a love of dance and in our tights and leotards in the same class we were almost stripped of our varying backgrounds…no, that’s not it. We were all bringing our different lives together to realize that when it came down to it we are not that much different from one another. So similar, yet with endless amounts to learn from each other.

There was also the Colorado Shooting, of which I heard about through a Finnish dancer before I heard from home. It was nice to have two other Americans around to debrief with afterward but it was even nicer to have people from all over with whom we could have deep conversation following the news. I learned about historical events and the population’s reaction to such occurrences that were similar to the Colorado Shooting in other countries.

And finally the storm and Hurricane Sandy. Experiencing this from abroad almost made it feel more real than being home but on the opposite coast. I’m not sure how to explain why. We watched French news reporters talk about what was going on at “home” and New York felt a lot more like “home” than if would have had I actually been home. It was heartwarming that whenever there was more news, if someone knew we were American, they asked with concern about our families and wanted to know if we knew people that lived in the path.

Normandy

Flag outside of the Museum

On Saturday the 10^th, we had an excursion to Normandy. It was well timed in that patriotic period. We got up at 5am to start this long emotional day. The first stop was a World War II museum. There were a lot of people, a lot of things to read and look at, and as usual, not a lot of time. I was frustrated with having been rushed through the museum and then having an extra half hour of time after lunch with access only to the gift store. Looking back, I should have gone quicker through the first two world wars and the holocaust sections since I’ve studied those a lot and focused more on the D-Day rooms to prepare for the rest of the day.
The second stop was the American Cemetery and Memorial. Being America, this was a really moving place to visit. On the way, on the bus, one of my professors jabbered at us about things he felt to be culturally and regionally significant. Such as (bet you can guess) …cheese and, naturally, the cows that produce the cheese. I guess cows are really important in Normandy and “The most beautiful cows”. Most people blocked him out, put in their headphones and napped. I took this as a chance to practice listening comprehension since the quality of the bus mic was not ideal. However, I became a lot more distracted with things out the window and zoned out a bit. Until we arrived. And we came around the corner to see the beaches themselves and the rows and rows and rows and rows of graves.
Actually, a friend of mine in the AHA program wrote an excellent blog about her experience here and instead of re-describing the impact of the cemetery, I’m going to include an excerpt of her writing (in quotes) with my interjections.
“When we arrived at the memorial, the first thing we saw was the beach. There’s a wall up, keeping visitors from entering, and a plan of the attacks, allowing visitors to get a general idea of what happened, and how vast the attacks really were.” I appreciated this. “We followed a path overlooking the beach, still laughing and chatting.” At this point, I was still really appreciating the beauty of the coast line. “We turned a corner, and a hush fell over our group. A picture can’t capture how vast it is. The graves are identical to those at Arlington, and they go on for ages.” –Rebekah Coble. This is the moment I looked back at the, still beautiful, but now sickening beaches. I briefly flashbacked to the film we’d seen in the museum with footage from the beaches. Those very beaches. My friend’s description of a hush falling is well put. I think we all had slight stomach aches.

The graves went on and on.

There was a memorial at one end of the cemetery that played the American National Anthem, which touched several students.

From a distance.

In the middle; there was a little round chapel.

Chapel

Then finally on the far end, two statues overlooking the grounds.

Looking toward the far end. Chapel behind me, graves on both sides.

Getting close enough to the graves you could read the home state of each fallen soldier and I was careful to walk at the foot of each grave.

Can’t find the picture of the Oregon. But this one is nice.

Picking my way delicately through the graves and seeing “Oregon” on several crosses became too much and I went back to the path and marveled a bit longer at the beaches.

The bus took us to Omaha Beach where we had 20 minutes to go stand on the famous land. I, feeling sentimental, drew a picture of a peace sign by the waves and collected some sand to take with me.

Beaches are powerful to me in general and good places for contemplation. I appreciated that the weather was nice because had it been gloomy as forecasted, my mood would have struggled a bit more.

Much like the day I went to Dachau, as if my emotions hadn’t had enough the end of the day was the most powerful. The final stop was La Pointe du Hoc. What struck me was how little this site has been changed. I knew it was a difficult place to attack and had been a site of struggle, but getting there and seeing the cliffs the soldiers climbed was really impactful.

What’s more, the humongous ditches and bomb shaped craters from attack remained, full of mud and slightly grassy, but terrifying man made dents in the dirt nonetheless.

These are really hard to photograph.

We were there until the beautiful sunset.

The dismal crumbling bunkers remained as well. It was horrifying to go inside and think about their original uses. In my friend’s blog, she talked about hiding in the bunkers in the rain storm and the impact that had. “While we were wandering around, it started raining, so we went into a bunker to seek shelter. That was the worst thing I did all day. It was only raining, and the bunker was small, cramped, dark and dank. With our phone lights, we were still tripping over things and running into each other. It was terrible. Then I realized that soldiers had been there, not only when it was dark and cramped, but in the midst of a war. That was the most powerful realization for me.” – Rebekah Coble. I enjoyed reading how she spent the rain storm because I had a different experience having chosen to stand out in the rain, getting soaked and watching the water.

Down inside is where Bekah stood and up on the railing over looking the Ocean is where I stood.

My view

The visit was concluded with a full and double rainbow.
It was beautiful…..

For a good length of time, we could see both ends and most of the arc of the rainbow

…and hopeful!

Bekah and I
Photo credit – fellow student, Dylan

This well timed excursion was meaningful to say the least. I was grateful to be among other Americans on the visit and to see firsthand such a significant historical site. Finally, as Bekah put it, “It was truly a naturally beautiful place, but devastatingly so.”.

-Photo credit for this and a few others, Maddy (thanks for sharing your camera and photos after my battery died!)

Emily